


Only Human

by Jaxrond



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Aliens are Cool, Body Horror, Clinging to Humanity, F/M, Friendship/Romance as Healing Agents, Government Organizations are Bad, Human Allies, Human Experimentation, Humans are jerks, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Kids love Ultra Magnus and he doesn't understand why, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Optimus is Disappointed Dad most of the time, POV First Person, PTSD, Possible Steam Later, Psychological Trauma, Rating subject to change, Slow recovery, Tags Subject to Change, The Government is Bad, Violence, War Themes, lots of platonic relationships - Freeform, major OC death, shameless romance, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxrond/pseuds/Jaxrond
Summary: When Optimus Prime requested that the governments of the world, specifically America, cease in their studies of Cybertronian technology, most complied. But, one splinter group in particular, who proudly proclaimed themselves the "Human Defense Network", went beyond simple study. Integration, they called it, the act of combining alien technology with compatible hosts. A dancer with an eidetic memory, a student with surprisingly extensive combat training, a man with a completely receptive mind, a young woman with a sharp mind and crippled body, and a child genius with cognitive abilities beyond her years. The H.D.N. created their soldiers with little care as to how the subjects themselves would react. They were pawns, tools made to be used until broken. What their captors failed to realize, though was just how far individuals will go to retain even a shred of humanity.





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic has been rated for a reason. Set in a first person pov, it includes body horror, specifically human experimentation, and the psychological effects that this would have on the victims. Read at your own discretion.

There was a time when my life was much simpler, and yet also so wonderfully complex

I miss the days when I dropped by The Electric Brew each morning for a coffee and, the few times the flirtatious young man behind the counter convinced me, a triple chocolate muffin. A skyrocketing of calories, yes, but oh so sweet in those rainy hours before work. I miss arriving at the empty studio at eight each day, having lugged my bag from my home because of my lack of a car. I miss the rush of annoyance I'd feel at finding the students' belongings left in the waiting area, where parents would often sit and talk during class sessions. I miss breaking up the fights between catty girls. I miss the hours of practice we put in together. I miss seeing their faces set in a firm mask of determination as they stretched higher, leaped further, and spun faster. I especially miss the days when there was no class, and I had the studio to myself. When, I would turn on the music and just…dance.

God knows what I would pay to have those days back.

Certainly not an arm and a leg. They've already taken those. Oh…I apologize for my poor sense of humor, but, you see, in a situation like this, it's all I have left. Even thinking the macabre joke means that there's a part of me that's still me, despite the number of times they've broken me.

The first time was when I initially woke up, groggy, head pounding. I'd been assaulted in my own home, I learned later. I remember nothing of it, a blessing, I think, but, according to what they've said, I was taken from my own bed, and drugged as a precaution. I suppose that made it easier for them to begin operating as soon as I arrived. I can tell you that there are few things more horrifying than waking up to find a man in a white coat and gloves surveying a pair of arms and a pair of legs laid out on a cloth-covered table. One of those few things is realizing that they're _your_ arms and legs.

I couldn't help but scream. All it had taken was a glance down, my eyes darting to my shoulder, head turning painfully under the wide strap they'd put just under my hairline. The space wasn't empty, like I'd expected. That might have been better than the wires and tubes that hooked into my body, blood and other fluids dripping and flowing down and through them. The scream was a natural reaction, as were the tears that immediately sprang to my eyes, when the panic surged through me.

Only upon reflection have I remembered exactly what happened in that moment. After I peeled away the layers of panic from the recollection. The sound had drawn the man's attention, a man I would learn to both despise and fear. He looked up, sharp brown eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance. He sighed, as though dealing with an ill-behaved child, and moved around the table to stand near where I rested. I could feel something solid beneath me, tilted at an angle so that, if not for the straps around my torso, I would slide off. He patted my chest with one gloved hand, a mockingly comforting gesture. It stopped me, bringing my scream down to a whimper. There was nothing lecherous about it, which made it perhaps all the worse. The almost absent nature of his touch. His lips pulled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. A patronizing smile given in some sort of mockery of comfort.

"Hush now, my dear. There's no reason to be so upset. You'll be getting new ones soon enough," he moved, leaning over me, to look closely at my head. His fingertips rested on my cheek, as though holding me still, "Ah, yes. You're progressing better than expected, Twenty-two," he leaned back and looked down at me, as though expecting me to share in the enjoyment of this good news, "That eidetic memory of yours is very special, you know," he reached up to tap something on my head. I didn't feel anything beyond a very strange pressure, "You've adapted fastest to the brain modifications. Now," he moved away, back towards my limbs, "My study in neurology didn't include eidetic memory, but, I would assume that the way your brain handles the memory process is the reason you've done so well. It's very similar to _theirs_ , you know."

His tone was conversational as he rounded the table. I was too terrified, too shocked to make sense of what he was saying. He flipped my arm over, the hand and fingers on the end flopping limply, and observed it, tracing the shape. A cap on the end, where my shoulder had been, was presumably what kept it from spewing fluids. As it was, I felt bile rise. Even from the table, I could see the pink nail polish I'd applied two days prior.

"Don't worry, Twenty-two," he said, distractedly, "I will do my best to recreate the shape. I've had enough practice that I think I'll be able to do a fair job. At the very least, they'll be proportionate," he looked at me again, flashing a quick smile, "You've made so much progress already. Only forty-eight hours in and I truly believe that, within the next few days, we'll be able to run tests. Who knows," he withdrew a scalpel from the pocket of his lab coat, "Within the week, you might be fully functional."

I had fainted when the scalpel touched my arm.

I wish I could say it was all just a terrifying nightmare. The product of one too many horror films watched during my teen years. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. True to the doctor's word, I remained in what we now call "the chop shop" for nearly a week. I won't share the details with you. The times I flitted in and out of unconsciousness to find a new horror awaiting me. The way my limbs disappeared from the table piece by piece. The way the tubes and wires were replaced by hydraulics and mechanical components. How it felt when they sutured the top of my skull back in place and stitched the skin of my scalp.

I'm just glad I spent most of it in darkness, mostly unaware.

The next time I awoke fully, the doctor, and three other people clad in white coats, were standing over me. I was too groggy to do more than lie there, having been put flat on my back. At first, their voices were muddled and intelligible. Then, I began to pick out snippets of conversation.

"…awake, doctor."

"Ah, good….in time….progress…"

The lights above me were blinding, turning the white-clad figures into blurs moving past my vision. And my eyes _hurt_ , like they'd been strained for a number of hours. One of the figures leaned over me, blocking the light so fully that I was able to see his face and relieving the pain just a little. The doctor from before glanced over my face appraisingly. He wore a surgical mask and cap, his eyes the only thing visible. They squinted in one of those cold smiles and he reached down, a gloved hand squeezing my shoulder. Or, rather, the space between my neck and shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Twenty-two. I'm glad to see you awake. You're just in time."

His voice was still oddly indistinct, but, I made out the words this time. That same calm tone as earlier sent a chill through me. It was the tone that all doctor's used, the faux pleasant one that made them seem so distant and, oftentimes, scary. The pressure on my skin disappeared and he moved his hands down to my shoulder joint.

"Now," he continued, "As promised, you have your new limbs. We're connecting them right now. You may feel a bit of a pinch…" the others moved to the remaining three connecting joints, "In three…two…one."

The pain that ripped through me was excruciating. I have nothing to compare it to, honestly. I don't know how to describe it. Fire ripped through my entire nervous system. A 'pinch' that went through the rawest and most sensitive parts of my body, both internal and external. I didn't realize I was screaming until a hand clapped down on my head. The doctor sighed, as though my screaming in pain was something an uncouth child would do. They must have given me some sort of painkiller, then, because the fire was soothed by a wave of unnatural coolness. It caused me to stop, and I gave a tearful whimper. Then, despite the haze that remained in my mind, I began to sob. I didn't know what was going on. I'd been awake in this place twice, and both times, this man had been doing _something_ to me. The doctor murmured softly, rubbing his hand over my head. It was then that I realized that I could feel his glove on my skin. Some distant part of me translated this: my hair was gone.

"Hush, now, Twenty-two. Such emotional displays are ill-befitting someone who's been selected to be humanity's salvation."

I continued to cry, feeling tears stream from my still-blurry and sore eyes, the painkillers doing nothing for them. Later, I would realize the injections had been localized, cutting off the pain at the source. Other fluids had begun to leak from my nose. I didn't know what he was talking about, and, to be frank, I didn't care. He had hurt me. Done horrible things to me. "Humanity's salvation" was the sort of things they talked about in action films, like _Terminator_.

"I don't expect you to understand now, but, you will soon enough," he moved away, finally no longer touching me, "Sedate her."

I did feel the prick that time, a sharp jab in the side of my neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello! Welcome to Only Human, the first instalment in what I believe will be a three-part series. 
> 
> If anyone's first thought is 'wow, Jax's writing has taken a dark turn', my response is that yes, it has. And I blame MTMTE and Dark Cybertron for that. IDW Transformers does things to you. Good grief. I swear, I have never seen so many horrible things happen to main characters. If you want your heart ripped out, shoved back in, pulled out again, and danced on, that's the series for you. And it's addictive as heck. 
> 
> As mentioned previously, this series will take on some of those body horror themes. Most of the reason these first chapters will be so choppy and muted is because the main character was seriously drugged and in shock at the time these events took place and, is now looking back on them. Fear not, though, there is hope of rescue. She just doesn't know it yet. Be aware that, despite that, yes, there will be happy-good-times coming up and, yes, there is romance, these experiences will serve as the main turning point for all five of the main characters to be introduced. This story will focus on how they cope with trying to retain their humanity in the aftermath. 
> 
> This series will also stick heavily to the IDW comics after The Death of Optimus Prime turning point, which will serves as the final chapter of this instalment. Before that, I am pretty much making this up as I go along, and, so, the first instalment is mostly original. The second and third installments, much like More Than Meets the Eye and Robots in Disguise, will be companions following the two branches. Which means there will be spoilers everywhere following the final chapter of Only Human.
> 
> As always, I am open to critique, fanspazzing, ship requests, interaction requests, event requests, gentle reminders of lore that I may have forgotten, and other constructive reviews. I am not open to flames. Flames are not critique and are not acceptable. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter and I look forward to seeing you at the next update!


End file.
